And by "family time" I mean time with DD, his kids and my kids - an instant family of 5 by all accounts.
Sunday after the toothbrush incident, I find myself trudging across a park with my son, bundled up due to unseasonal cold in May, to watch DD play in a rec kickball playoff game.
We're late because we went to church and then had to stop twice for my son to go to the bathroom and get water.
I like that DD plays rec kickball. I thought it was cute before I showed up, but when I show up to Gillham Park and see HUNDREDS of people and three kickballs games commencing, I upgrade "cute" to some other word of appreciation. This is a fun extracurricular thing that DD does. This is a good sign. He has friends and a life that are important to him. It makes me understand why he keeps saying that he appreciated that I have a life and friends. I appreciate it in him. I'm just not as good at gushing as he is.
We manage to catch DD scoring a run just before his team loses and is out of the playoffs. Luckily, there's free beer and they are going to grill hot dogs and brats and hang out.
I peg his girls instantly. His oldest is wearing a fuzzy pink jackets with hearts on it and embellished jeans with flowers on them. Somehow, this is exactly what I thought she would be wearing. The younger one is sullenly slumped in a lawn chair, stocking cap pulled down over a pair of askew blonde pigtails. She spares me a glance and then looks back out at the kickball players. The older one seems to know who I am, takes in MY son, and smiles.
Okay, that's good. I don't know what I expected. They're old enough to not like people purely for the sake of not liking people. I don't know what they know about me or what "dating" means to them.
DD sidles up, hugs me and kisses me on the cheek.
"is this okay?" he asks, meaning the PDA. I glance at my toddler, who is oblivious and running towards a tree.
"I think I'm fine for HIM, but you tell me on...I mean, it's your call," I say awkwardly.
I'm out of my element and I don't know the rules of this particular game.
Luckily, the game plays itself out. We grill and someone sets up a game of ladder ball which the girls and my son play at. They're surprisingly sweet with him and makes sure to give him a turn, and to gently remind him to let THEM have a turn. At one point DD heads to the luxury port-a-potty that is across the park from us, and I find myself sitting next to his oldest (who is manning the grill, and I'm trying to keep myself warm by staying in proximity to the warmth of the grill) and his youngest comes in from kicking the ball around with my son. She looks at me.
"I'm bored and I'm hungry," she says petulantly. It reminds me of my little sister.
I grin, stifle a laugh and say "well, that's a terrible combination. I think the hot dogs are almost done though, so we can knock half of that off. And when your dad gets back we're going to head over to the playground. Sound like a plan?"
Her eyes brighten just enough that I think I've passed some test with her. She nods slightly and then asks my son if he wants to keep kicking the ball. They run back onto the field and I make small talk about choir and girl scouts with the older one.
The good news is that the girls have a similar dynamic and juxtaposition of personality as my sister and I did as kids so I feel comfortable with my course of conversation with BOTH. It's easier than I thought (not that I could have pegged what I really THOUGHT).
We all head to the playground and everyone gets to run around. I chase my son around the playground, and it's as we're sliding down a slide backwards that I look up and see DD grinning at me.
"What?" I say, looking at him upside down from where I lay on my back on the slide. I lift my son off of me and let him go play and scramble to right myself.
"I didn't realize that you were a playground kind of girl," he says, still grinning.
"I like playgrounds," I say, trying to make it sound both defensive and like "who doesn't!?"
"I guess it hasn't been that long since you've been on them yourself," he cracks, making me roll my eyes.
"Alright, Old Man," I say, getting up and hugging him.
We walk over to the swings where all three kids have run to in time to see his youngest daughter picking up my toddler and putting him on a swing before retreating to her own swing and letting her older sister push my son on the swing. I don't know why this moment struck me so deeply, but I watch a 9 and 10 year old easily accept a 2.5 year old and it was a surreal moment in which my brain jumped years into my future and thought "this could work. this could be SOMETHING."
"We should head home," I say out loud when I pull myself out of the crazy girl thoughts.
We legitimately need to go home, but I've also freaked myself out on the inside. Time to go.
"Thanks for spending Sunday with us," DD says charmingly after getting his kids in the car and walking me and MY kid towards mine.
"It was great," I say genuinely, with just enough of my real surprise and delight that he seems to feel it. I get my tired tired toddler strapped in and turned to kiss DD. We pull back and just grin at eachother for a moment.
I have another internal future flash, pull away quickly and wave goodbye as I FLEE.
Am I on my way to inheriting teenage girls and a family of 5?
No comments:
Post a Comment